


Learned Whores

by Am-Chau (Vacillating)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-25
Updated: 2011-08-25
Packaged: 2017-10-23 01:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vacillating/pseuds/Am-Chau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel Jackson and Remus Lupin need to earn some money. They take an unlikely but obvious route.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learned Whores

Learned Whores  
by Am-Chau Yarkona  
[amchau@popullus.net](mailto:Yarkona%0d%0aamchau@popullus.net)  
Rating: NC-17  
Summary: A Harry Potter/ Stargate SG-1 crossover, written for Raven, whose  
madness inspires me.  
(To give you a flavour, she said of this story: "I don't want to read it, I  
want to roll it up and smoke it.")  
Archive: if you really want to. Feedback always welcomed.  


 

"There  
are ways of earning money, you know," Remus said to the blue-eyed young man  
whom he'd only just met and was already buying drinks for. Drinks that he  
couldn't really afford.

"Yeah,"  
he replied, "But they all involve getting a job, which involves giving your  
real name, and that's not something I'm happy to do right now."

"Ah,"  
Remus said, and carefully didn't wonder if this man was a young criminal or an  
old runaway. An image of Sirius swam before his eyes— _I'd pay for sex with  
you._ "There are jobs that don't. Rather the opposite, in fact."

Suddenly  
the blue eyes were fixed on him, and for once in his life Remus was aware that  
he was facing an intellect greater than his own. "How?"

Well,  
maybe at least equal to his own. "There's always selling your body."

"Organ  
transplants?" the man said, and then his mind clearly caught up.  
"Sex!?"

Remus  
raised his eyebrows, pushed himself away from the bar, and gave the young man  
who called himself Daniel Ziggurat a long, appraising look.

Daniel  
returned it, shocked to find that his body responded approvingly to this idea.  
"Are you offering, Remus…"

"Areson,  
and no, I'm not. I'm nearly as broke as you are, remember?"

Nodding,  
Daniel turned back to his drink. "I don't suppose this wonderful idea of  
yours extends to a method of procuring custom, does it?"

"It  
doesn't yet," Remus admitted, "but let me work on that."

* * *

In  
the end, he gave up on the small town where they'd met and hitched them a lift  
to New York, where at least he knew the wizarding world.

On  
the corner of Eight and Bonkwiggle, New York's answer to Knockturn Alley, he met  
Mr. Gorgon. "A Muggle? A male Muggle?"

Remus  
nodded. "And me."

Mr.  
Gorgon considered him—strapping young man. "Come inside," he said.  
"I'm sure we can come to some sort of… arrangement."

* * *

Three  
hours later they were 'arranged': Remus and Daniel had been found hotel rooms in  
a seedy establishment called "The Gentleman's Rest", presided over by  
an old woman with a huge red mouth like a bloody wound; Mr. Gorgon was off make  
their existence known to certain people who knew other people who might be  
interested in such; and Daniel was trying to work out what was happening to him.

"You  
brought me here blindfolded, though you could just have taken my glasses  
off," he said observed. "That has to be suspicious. What's going on?  
Are you with a secret service?" Remus didn't answer, but Daniel went on  
talking to the room at large. "Why am I letting this happen?"

"Because  
you need the money, dear," the mirror replied.

"Okay,"  
Daniel said. "I wish I knew what I've taken, because it's the good shit and  
no mistake."

"You'll  
get used to it," Remus told him,and  
went to search the bathroom cabinets. He was going to have to find some Muggle  
lube before Daniel's first customer arrived, or there would be even more  
explaining to do.

* * *

The  
first man came, and came, and left satisfied. Another arrived for Daniel, who  
pocketed the money with a sneer of disgust; and another, and another, and  
another.

Nobody  
knocked on Remus' door.

After  
a week of this, Daniel was considerably better off, though not quite making  
enough to consider stopping, and Remus was three dollars poorer. He'd had one  
customer, but she'd been so ugly he'd felt the need to drink himself stupid with  
his cut of the money she'd paid.

He  
also suspected that the exchange rate was not quite what he'd been told it was,  
but since he didn't feel ready to explain Knuts and Sickles to Daniel, he let  
it lie.

While  
Daniel went on laying, and getting rich on it.

Remus  
gritted his teeth. "Listen—the deal was that we both got customers. What  
happened?"

Mr.  
Gorgon shrugged. "You're not what's in demand at the moment. Be patient.  
I'm paying your food and board, aren't I?"

Sighing,  
Remus nodded. He was. "Look, what is in demand at the moment?"

"The  
exotic, like always," Gorgon told him, voice sour with cynicism. "Muggles,  
monsters, madmen."

"Werewolves?"  
Remus enquired.

Gorgon  
turned a penetrating stare on him. "Yeah. You happen to know one?"

Taking  
a deep breath, Remus nodded. "I happen to be one."

"Why  
didn't you say so… oh." Gorgon broke off, still staring. "It's full  
moon next Saturday, isn't it?"

Remus  
nodded.

"Fuck."

Remus  
nodded again. "Yeah. Think anyone would be interested in paying for  
one?"

"To  
fuck a fucking werewolf?"

Remus—beginning  
to feel like a Churchill advert—nodded once more.

"They'd  
have to be fucking insane or something."

"I'd  
say you've hit the nail on the head. I'd also venture that they ought to be  
rich. If they like, I normally wear manacles at the full moon anyway, so that's  
not a problem."

This  
time, it was Gorgon's turn to nod dumbly. "I'll… ask around," he  
said, and fled the room.

* * *

"I've  
stumbled into some sort of anthropological heaven, haven't I?" Daniel said,  
musingly. He knew he was annoying Remus, but he didn't really care. "I  
mean, bed has to be **the** best place to study people's habits, even if you  
don't get long to look at their clothes."

"Uh-huh,"  
Remus replied, picking at the loose threads on the arm of his chair. He itched  
to reach for the copy of _Four Hundred Useful Spells_ in his bag and see if  
there was a silencing charm, but didn't dare risk it. Daniel would read anything  
in sight. "Don't you have any clients?"

"Finished  
for today," Daniel said smugly, stretching out on one side of Remus' double  
bed. "One guy came in yesterday with a whole list of Latin verbs he wanted  
me to read. And there's a woman out there somewhere who has _ineo_ tattooed  
just over her asshole."

"Over  
her _arse_?" Remus said, fascinated despite himself.

Daniel  
nodded. "Apparently that's where she liked it—she was very enthusiastic,  
anyway. She paid for twice, and tipped as well. You're a real Brit, aren't  
you?"

"Um,  
yes," Remus said. "You've been drinking coffee all evening, haven't  
you?"

"Am  
I talking that much faster?"

"Yes,"  
Remus said.

"You  
didn't answer my question."

"Yes,  
I'm genuinely British. Now will you go away and let me have some peace and  
quiet?" 

"You  
have nothing but peace and quiet all day," Daniel said, choosing to ignore  
the fact that mostly Remus got to listen to the bangs and moans from next door.

"I've  
got a customer coming tomorrow, I want to be ready," Remus told him acidly,  
and immediately wished he hadn't.

"Ooh!  
At last! Lucky you, Remus," Daniel said. Remus imagined that he could hear  
the splash of sarcasm hitting the floor. "Make sure to note down whether  
they were these weird medieval robes, will you? I don't know where Gorgon drags  
them up from, but unless we're camp followers to a band of historical  
recreationists, something very strange is going on."   


* * *

The  
next afternoon, Remus had been planning to shove Daniel out of the hotel and  
make sure he stayed away for the rest of the night. And possibly the next three  
nights, and maybe even forever.

Unfortunately,  
there wasn't a break in Daniel's stream of customers until sunset was ten  
minutes away; and Daniel took advantage of that gap to promptly fall asleep.

Remus  
cursed.

All  
he could do was make himself as safe a possible and pray that the woman—for no  
real reason, he imagined it would be a woman—would lock the door.

* * *

"A  
muzzle," Daniel said, lifting same from the floor. "Handcuffs…  
chains… muzzle. Cuts and bruises. Remus, what on earth did you let him do to  
you?"

Remus  
huddled further down under the quilt and prayed that Daniel would leave soon.  
"Nothing he didn't pay for," he muttered.

"There's  
something I'm missing here," Daniel said softly. "Care to  
explain?"

"No,"  
Remus said. "Leave me alone."

Thankfully,  
Daniel left. Remus dropped into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

Some  
semblance of tact must have been installed in Daniel at some point, because he  
didn't comment on Remus' condition the next two nights, or the next month.

The  
month after that, though, he cracked.

"I've  
seen a lot of strange things since I met you," he said to Remus over dinner  
on the night before the full moon. "People who could move things with a  
word, a man who could turn into a bat, and women who paid for my time and then  
didn't want sex, only a sample of my semen—not to mention people who called me  
"darling Muggle" and fed me as if I was an animal. But you're the  
strangest of all—if I didn't know better, I'd say you were a werewolf."

Remus  
stood up. "You're also a lot richer," he said. "I think it's time  
you left."

Reasonably  
calmly, Daniel allowed Remus to put the blindfold on once more and lead him out  
of the hotel.

They  
said goodbye in the bar where they'd met. This time, Daniel paid.

It  
seemed like the end. Daniel assumed it would be; Remus, who knew a little more  
about the ways of these things, hoped it would be.

 **  
*  
* * * *   
**

"SG-1,  
good to see you," General Hammond said. "We've had a call, routed  
through the Pentagon, from the RAF. They think they may have alien activity in  
Scotland."

"And  
this concerns us how?" Jack asked, taking his place at the briefing room  
table.

"I  
want you to fly over there and see if they're right," Hammond replied.  
"People have died, Colonel O'Neill—it could be a Goa’uld experiment, or  
a lone Asgard, or something else. I want you to stop it."

Jack  
looked around his team—Daniel rubbing his eyes, having been living on coffee  
for a couple of days; Teal'c as serene as always even though he'd be summoned as  
hurriedly as the rest of them; and Sam seemingly disappointed at being dragged  
out of her lab. There wasn't a lot to say except, "Yes, sir."

Six  
hours later, they were over the Atlantic.

Officially,  
Jack liked flying; in practice, it was a lot more fun when he was in charge.  
Sitting on a civilian passenger flight (why oh why? There was a reason, he  
supposed, and probably a good one, to do with politics and staying friends and  
being advising experts not invaders, but General Hammond hadn't told him what it  
was) with Daniel throwing up on one side of him and a huge lady carrying a Bible  
blocking his view out of the window on the other, it was basically miserable.

"Carter,"  
he asked for the third time, "are we nearly there yet?"

* * *

The  
man who met them at Edinburgh airport didn't look military.

"Simon  
Beaufort, and my partner is Karen Cheney. We're MI5," he explained once  
they were in the privacy of the car, having caught Jack's doubtful looks.  
"I've been acting through RAF Kinloss so that I didn't have to explain all  
my details to the USAF, but now you're here you ought to know, I'm what you  
could loosely term Secret Service."

"Licensed  
to kill?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow.

His  
partner—a tall dark-haired women with heavy wrinkles and a slightly deformed  
lip, shook her head. "We're not that sort of agent, Colonel O'Neill. We  
investigate strange domestic occurrences, just in case they turn out to be  
attacks."

"We've  
never had something this big before," Beaufort went on as if confiding in  
them. "It's not anything we can explain with reference to military  
technology—unless you lot have developed something we don't know about—but  
it is genuine, and it is dangerous."

"Could  
you tell us exactly what has been happening?" Daniel asked.

"We're  
only really guessing at the big picture, Doctor Jackson. Perhaps it's for the  
best if we show you the evidence…" Cheney suggested.

"Okay,"  
Daniel nodded. "What have you got?"

"Well,  
I thought we'd stop by the morgue first—it's not in the village itself, but  
we'll be going past…"

* * *

Eventually,  
Beaufort and Cheney departed to give their superiors a full report, and left  
SG-1 alone for a while in the place's sole hotel.

"What  
have we got, really?" Jack asked them.

"Not  
much that makes sense," Daniel replied. "Two bodies, dead but  
apparently unmarked; several remarkably similar eyewitness accounts of lights in  
the sky and strange noises; and a village that's…"

"Spooky?"  
Jack suggested. "I feel like Scully."

"I  
guess that makes me Mulder," Sam put in. "Something's going on  
here—I swear that this village isn't exactly what it seems. When I got to the  
edge, and looked along the river, I thought I could see more houses just half a  
mile or so up, but Beaufort swore there wasn't anything there."

"And  
when we were coming in, I saw that castle," Daniel said. "He swore  
that wasn't there, either, but I know a castle when I see one."

"He  
may be unable to see it," Teal'c suggested. "Brainwashing has been  
known."

"True,"  
Sam said, "but I think there's something more going on than just  
brainwashing—or if that's what it is, it's not all that effective. Those  
people were just **dead** —no marks or anything; and the lights in the sky  
don't sound like any spaceship we've come across before."

"They  
describe a cloud, of smoke possibly, shaped like a skull and serpent,"  
Daniel said. "It's vaguely reminiscent of some Greek myths, but not  
exact."

"It's  
a lot reminiscent of _Harry Potter_ ," Jack said.

Daniel  
shrugged. "J.K. Rowling used a lot of mythology from some very eclectic  
sources. I think we've got to follow up the castle and Sam's other village, and  
meanwhile I'd like to poke around in the local library and see if there are any  
previous reports of this sort of thing."

"Sounds  
like a plan to me," Jack said. "We'll put that to our hosts when they  
come back, and see if we can get that through."

* * *

"There  
have been deaths in the Muggle village, Headmaster," Snape reported.  
"And one Death Eater was talking about Muggles coming to investigate. We  
have to take action, or He Who Must Not Be Named will kill or enslave them  
all."

Dumbledore  
nodded. "Someone must find out who these investigating Muggles are, and  
scare them away: if they keep their noses out of magical business, they will be  
safe for the time being. Voldemort must surely still fear all-out-attack."

There  
was silence among the members of the Order of the Phoenix who had gathered in  
his office. Eventually, Remus Lupin stood. "I'll go," he offered.  
"I have research to do in the Muggle library there anyway—the librarian  
is Madam Pince's sister, and she might be able to tell me what's been  
happening."

"Good  
luck, Remus," Minerva said. "Find out what you can, but don't risk  
being discovered or blamed for the deaths."

* * *

Beaufort  
was very accommodating. "Doctor Jackson, Karen can stay and help  
you—she's made a start on some of the local history material all ready.  
Colonel, I know for a fact that there's nothing there, but if you want to check  
it with your own eyes, I'll help you." 

"I'd  
like to check it," Jack said, fervently hoping that he was right to put his  
trust in the team's instincts this way. "Beaufort, you're with me, we'll go  
and look for this castle; Carter, Murray, head upriver. Radio contact every  
hour."

Teal'c  
nodded under his stylish low-brimmed hat. "We will be sure of it,  
O'Neill."

* * *

Daniel  
and Karen buried themselves in local folklore, with the aid of a very helpful  
librarian called Miss Pince.

"There  
are masses of these stories," Daniel said, after an hour or so. "Odd  
things must happen here every week. Last year, for example, there are sixteen  
cases of objects mysteriously disappearing, eight sightings of 'ghost children'  
who are never seen again, and twenty-nine reports of noises, lights, and  
UFOs."

"I  
know," Karen agreed. "It makes me wonder what's so different about  
this case. It starts to look like business as usual."

"It  
makes me wonder why nobody's investigated before," Daniel said, hearing  
Jack's voice in the words even as he said them. "Sorry. I must be getting  
cynical in my old age."

Karen  
smiled at him, and turned back to her pile of local newspapers. "It's a  
good question, actually."

* * *

Out  
on the moor, Jack and Simon Beaufort were struggling through the rain.

"We  
ought to turn back!" Simon shouted.

"Nah,"  
Jack called over his shoulder. "We'll be alright. I want to get to the top  
of that hill." He pointed away into the distance.

"There's  
a lake between here and there, and the whole place is covered in trees,  
Colonel!" Simon replied. "This is stupid. Let's come back another  
day."

"No,  
Agent Beaufort. I say we're going on." Jack turned away determinedly and  
started marching across the moor again.

Behind  
him and luckily unheard, Simon sighed. "Typical bloody American, thinks he  
knows it all."

* * *

Finding  
out about the bizarre Muggles may have been a noble aim; recognising one of them  
as part of one's wild youth was not in the game plan.

Daniel  
looked up as the door opened and found himself caught in a sudden rush of  
recollection.

"Mr  
Lupin," the librarian said, hurrying over to the newcomer. "Did you  
want those books on local history? I'm afraid some of them are in use…"

"Yes,  
yes," Remus nodded, staring into blue eyes. "I, um… hello."

"Hi,"  
Daniel said, awkward—had she said "Lupin"? That wasn't what he  
remembered, he was sure of that.

"Sorry,"  
Miss Celandine Pince buzzed, "I should introduce you I suppose—Mr Lupin,  
this is Dr Daniel Jackson, he's researching the area with Miss Karen Cheney  
here; Dr Jackson, Miss Cheney, this is Mr Remus Lupin, he teaches at a local  
school."

Remus  
swallowed and recovered himself. "Good to meet you again, Daniel—or  
should I call you Doctor Jackson now?"

Daniel  
shook the offered hand. "Daniel is fine—if I can call you Remus?"

"Of  
course," Remus said, smiling at him briefly before turning to Karen.  
"And Miss Cheney, pleased to meet you."

"Karen,  
please," she replied. Daniel thought he could see her going weak at the  
knees.

"Have  
you found anything of interest?" Remus asked, politely.

"A  
lot of strange things go on around here," Daniel said. "I don't  
suppose you could throw any light on the hundreds of apparently supernatural  
occurrences?"

Remus  
and Celandine exchanged a glance—as a Squib, she knew quite well that he could  
explain most of it perfectly if he chose to. "Many of them are probably  
superstition," he said. "Were there specific examples you were  
interested in?"

"Well,  
it's the more recent ones that I've been asked to look at," Daniel  
explained. "Specifically, it's the deaths that are attracting notice."

"Deaths?"  
Remus said. He hadn't been aware of any deaths that might have come to Muggle  
notice.

Daniel  
nodded. "Haven't you read the local paper?"

* * *

"We  
have to go back," Simon moaned. "I have to phone my wife. I'm missing  
a dentist's appointment. My feet ache."

He'd  
been keeping up a stream of similar complaints ever since they set out. Jack was  
starting to wonder if the man was just a wimp, or if there was something making  
him invent reasons to go back.

"Shhh,"  
Jack said. "Don't you hear anything?"

They  
froze, still surrounded by trees on every side.

Somewhere  
in the distance, a child's voice called, "Give it back! Give it back! I  
have Quidditch practice in an hour!"

"There!"  
Jack said, triumphant. "Someone's there."

They  
trudged on, slipping from time to time in the damp leaf mould.

* * *

The  
voices came and went, ahead of them; they trudged on.

Simon  
tripped and fell, twisting his ankle. He tried to persuade Jack that it was time  
to turn around, but Jack handed him a bandage and walked on.

After  
another half hour, they stopped to listen again: when a voice rang out in the  
distance, it was clearly behind them. Jack swung around, then checked his  
compass. "We must have managed to turn in a circle—that's still to the  
north-east. Come on."

Simon  
followed, cursing the day he decided to ask for 'expert' help in this case,  
suspected aliens or not.

* * *

"Come  
back to the hotel with us—Sam Carter has all the details," Karen offered,  
unexpectedly.

"Um…"  
Daniel said. He was fairly sure that Jack at least would ask question about when  
he'd first met Remus, and that wasn't something he was going to tell in a hurry.

"And  
I'm sure Mr Beaufort would be interested in some of the things you've told  
us," Karen went on, oblivious.

Remus  
started to panic. He'd ended up invented story after story to provide  
semi-scientific explanations of some of the incidents, and he was fairly sure  
that Daniel was getting suspicious. "Are you sure? I mean…"

"Of  
course I'm sure—a little local knowledge is just what we need," Karen  
told him. Her large, damp eyes were drinking him in, which he found deeply  
unattractive.

That  
time, Remus was sure he caught a sneer from Daniel. Damn, but things had  
changed. "Well, I suppose…" Let the man suffer.

"You  
could even join us for supper if you like," Karen burbled on.

Daniel  
cleared his throat. "That's all very fine," he said, "but we  
really do need to keep going through these newspapers."

"Workaholic,"  
Remus said.

"Just  
earning my money," Daniel replied, grinned, and bent his head down over the  
table once more.

* * *

By  
some freak chance, Daniel, Karen, and Remus arrived in the hotel's main room  
just as Simon and Jack limped in through the other door. Sam and Teal'c were  
already sitting snugly by the open fire. 

"Cheney!"  
Simon said, the instant she was in sight. "We have to report to Glasgow  
tonight, the chief thinks he's got a lead on the MacMillian case. Colonel  
O'Neill, I'm sorry to have dragged you all the way over here for nothing.  
Someone will arrive in the morning to give you a lift back to the airport."

Looking  
nervous, he and Karen hurried away, Simon with rather more difficulty than he  
would have liked.

"Well,  
that's charming," Jack said, and called after them. "Nice to meet you  
guys! Drop by next time you're on the other side of the pond!"

They  
didn’t so much as glance back. After a couple minutes, he turned back towards  
his team—which had mysteriously acquired an extra member.

Remus  
had a sudden and insane urge to hide behind Daniel.

"Daniel,  
who's you're friend?" Jack enquired.

"Um…  
Colonel O'Neill, Remus Lupin; Remus, Colonel Jack O'Neill," Daniel said,  
and added on a wicked impulse, "Don't worry, he doesn't bite."

"Pleased  
to meet you," Remus said, smiling up at Jack.

"And  
these are Major Samantha Carter—"

"Sam,  
please," she said, standing up to shake hands.

"And,  
err…" They didn't exactly have a cover story prepared for Teal'c, not  
having expected to deal with civilians much. He caught Jack's eye, pleading for  
help. Jack gave him a on-your-own-head-be-it shrug. "Teal'c."

"Unusual  
name," Remus said, shaking the big man's hand.

"As  
is yours, Remus Lupin," Teal'c returned. Remus had an unsettling feeling  
that he might be the object of mockery.

"So  
this is your team now, Daniel?" Remus said, trying to rescue something of  
the air of teasing their earlier interactions had been tinged with.

"Technically  
speaking, it's my team," Jack put in. 

"Yes.  
Err—Karen invited Remus to join us for dinner—he's something of an expert on  
local history," Daniel said. "If that's okay."

"I'm  
sure that's fine," Jack agreed. Daniel suspected he knew exactly how  
uncomfortable the whole situation was and took a certain sort of pleasure in it.  
"It's a legitimate thing to put on our expenses request."

* * *

"That  
was the most awkward meal I've ever sat through," Remus said.

"I  
could hardly tell them that you introduced me to my first—and, for your  
information, last—pimp, could I?" Daniel snorted into the chilly spring  
air. "You didn't help much with the atmosphere, either, and I'm going to  
have a lot of explaining to do tonight. 'Come back to the library and look at my  
notes'! You might just as well have asked me to look at your etchings."

"You  
said yes," Remus replied softly. They reached the library before Daniel  
could reply. "Only me and Daniel, Celandine," he called, pushing the  
door open.

She  
came scuttling through the book stacks. "Oh, Remus, I was just about to  
lock up and go home."

"Don't  
worry—I can lock up, if you like," he offered.

Wow,  
Daniel thought, he really had turned into a gentleman.

"Would  
you?" She looked doubtful for a minute, but then home and bed apparently  
won out, and she handed him the keys. "I'll trust you. Drop them through my  
letterbox when you're done?"

"Of  
course." Remus smiled sweetly at her. She swept her handbag up from the  
desk and strolled away into the darkness—Daniel wondered if all the  
inhabitants were so carefree, and if that related to their deaths at all.  
"She'll be alright," Remus muttered in his ear. "It's only the  
ones who stray outside the boundaries that are in danger."

Daniel  
swung round to face him, letting the door slam behind them. "So you do know  
what's going on?"

Remus  
shrugged. "A little, not all the details." He paused, weighing up how  
much to tell Daniel.

"I  
remember everything that happened when we last met, by the way," Daniel  
said. "You're an alien, aren't you?"

The  
accusation came out of the blue—nobody had previously mentioned aliens, on the  
strict basis of keeping civilians ignorant—and it was a moment before Remus  
could react. When he did, he found himself laughing hysterically, scarcely able  
to breathe.

"Oh,  
Daniel," he gasped when he could. "You really have no idea…"

"So  
tell me the truth," Daniel said, coldly. In that maturity of tone Remus  
heard every second of the years that had passed, and he remembered his  
responsibilities—to the dead of the Muggle world as well as the wizarding  
world, and to those who yet lived.

"I  
can't," he said, suddenly calm. "Daniel—you have to trust me. I  
can't tell you what's going on. You have to ask the villagers to stay within  
their bounds—another two narrowly escaped in the forest today—"

"Jack  
and Beaufort were in danger?" Daniel asked.

"If  
they went into the forest," Remus replied. The dark of the unlit library  
seemed oppressive. He moved, reaching for the light switch, but Daniel caught  
his arm and held him.

"What's  
in the forest, Remus?"

Remus  
searched for an answer. "An ancient place of learning," he said,  
knowing that Daniel could not understand but hoping against hope that he would  
accept it.

Daniel  
nodded. "Why are the villagers in danger?"

"We  
have to protect ourselves," Remus said, before he realised that it would  
reveal too much. "Please, Daniel. Let us be, tell the villagers to lock  
their children in at night, and leave. There will be no more deaths."

He  
couldn't, of course, really be sure of that. The fighting against Voldemort was  
hanging in the balance.

Daniel  
didn't need to know—couldn't know—that.

Remus  
tugged at the grip on his arm, and Daniel released him.

"Okay,"  
Daniel said. "I trust you. I'll explain to Sam what she's probably figured  
out already, that the bodies were killed in the forest before they were moved  
into the streets, and get Jack to let the British Army know to put a military  
fence around the place. That'll keep people out for a while—some RAF people  
will want to know what's in there, but we can put a very high security rating on  
it, and General Hammond will accept my vague notion for a while. But it won't  
last forever."

"I  
know," Remus nodded, and flicked the lights on. "Give me your address.  
I'll send word as soon as I think it's safe to take the fence down."

Daniel  
scribbled 'Dr. Daniel Jackson, Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado' on a corner of Remus'  
notebook.

"I  
hope it won't be too long," Remus said.

Daniel's  
blue eyes looked deep into his, and he replied, "So do I. For your sake and  
mine."

For  
an instant, Remus considered kissing him, but then just smiled.

"Hopefully,  
I'll never see you again," Daniel added, for good measure. "Have a  
nice life, Mr Lupin."

The  
door slammed shut behind him with an air of finality that Remus could only  
aspire to.

 

 **  
*  
* * * * *   
**

****

The  
sharp light of the full moon sliced the world into stripes of black and white.  
Behind Daniel, the dusty road swept back to the town, a poor ex-Communist place  
that was trying desperately to stave off ruin; ahead, it ran upwards towards the  
forest and mountains—and, most importantly, the buried sarcophagus. He strode  
on, hoping to get there, find it, and be able to tell the SGC whether they had a  
Goa’uld artefact on their hands before daybreak.

Somewhere  
in the distance, a dog howled. It was probably a dog, at any rate: wolves, he  
remembered reading somewhere, must be extinct now, even in the remotest of East  
European forests.

Just  
in case, he checked the gun at his side. He didn't like carrying it, but Jack  
had insisted, and it was starting to have a certain comfort.

* * *

"Digging  
up Goa’uld," Daniel grunted. "Just great." He threw the  
shovel-full of earth onto his rapidly-growing spoil heap and bent to scoop up  
the next one. "Just what I always…" a pause for breath as the next  
load went flying "… wanted to do."

A few  
last shafts of moonlight slanted through the trees, and in the east the sky was  
lightening. It would be dawn soon. People—small towns were highly  
observant—would wonder where he was. Of course, plan A was going to be an  
abject failure. Jack had dreamed it up, so that was pretty much a given.

Daniel  
sighed and was about to bend down for another shovelful when the dog howled  
again, about hundred yards away.

He  
dropped the shovel with a clang. "Damn," he said, and then—peering  
out into the darkness—"Nice doggie?"

* * *

Drawn  
to the smell of warm flesh—human flesh—the wolf stalked through the  
undergrowth, then leapt.

The  
human screamed. The wolf took pleasure in the sound, and bent his head to  
bite… and dawn broke.

* * *

Remus  
landed on Daniel with a bump.

"Oww,"  
Daniel moaned, his eyes shut.

"Um,"  
Remus said, and added, "Sorry."

Daniel,  
who had been feeling for that handy gun Jack had insisted he carry, looked up.  
Remus scrambled quickly off him.

"Remus?"  
Daniel said. "Just a minute ago, there was a dog…"

"Um,"  
Remus repeated. "Yes. What are you doing here?"

 _  
Looking  
for aliens,   
_   
  
Daniel nearly replied. "Err… digging a hole."   


Remus  
nodded, unable to deny that fact. "Can I ask why?"

"You  
can ask," Daniel told him, "but since it's technically classified  
information, the US government forbids me to tell you unless you've got a  
security clearance on you. Which brings me to: why are you here?"

"As  
a matter of fact," Remus said, though it was nothing of the sort, "I'm  
on a classified mission for the British Government." He just hoped they  
weren't both after stray Death Eaters. If the US government had sent a Muggle  
after a magical trace…

"Ah,"  
Daniel said, hoping fervently that they weren't both after the Goa’uld. If the  
British Government had sent a civilian out to find an alien…

"I,  
err, suppose I ought to be going now," Remus said, awkwardly.

"Sorry,"  
Daniel replied. "I sort of need to get on…"

"We  
could, err, get together," Remus suggested. "For… a meal or  
something." Daniel looked doubtful. "If you want to."

"It  
would be nice," Daniel agreed, unexpectedly. "You're staying in the  
town? In, err…"

"The  
only hotel in the place," Remus nodded.

"Tonight?"  
Daniel suggested. That was, of course, assuming that either there wasn't a   
Goa’uld two inches under his trowel, or that he survived if there was.

"Okay,"  
Remus said, doing a quick mental count to make sure that last night really had  
been the third night of the full moon. "That sounds good." He nodded  
again, sharply, and then turned and hurried away into the rapidly rising sun.

* * *

The  
meal, served to only the two of them in the hotel's "restaurant" was  
disgusting: badly cooked fake-British fish and chips, clearly invented  
specifically in case any tourist wandered past and had to be got rid of quickly.  
It both looked and tasted like cardboard. Halfway through, Remus looked at his  
next forkful and gave in. "Dammit," he said, pushing the plate away,  
"I'm not hungry. Thanks, Daniel, but I think it's time I turned in."

Daniel  
stared at his plate for a moment, and then said, "Good plan." He waved  
a hand over the food and said, "Sorry, Remus."

"What's  
to be sorry for?" Remus asked rhetorically.

They  
left money on the table and wandered along the corridors to their rooms. Daniel  
followed Remus to his door, as if reluctant to be parted.

"Well,"  
Remus said. "Goodnight, I guess."

Daniel  
nodded. "I suppose. Unless…" He left it hanging there, blushing.

"If  
you want…" Remus began. "Err… on the house, so to speak. Just this  
once."

"Um,"  
Daniel replied, and then a flash of something new was in his face, something  
dangerous that Remus was sure had never been there before. "Okay," he  
said. "It's been a while—why not?"

Remus  
pulled him inside the door, not wanting to begin a physical encounter in a  
public space.

* * *

When  
Daniel came, his eyes shut tight with carefully guided pleasure, the unheard  
name on his lips began with J and ended CK; and when Remus came, ten minutes  
later, the name he hissed into the knee hooked over his shoulder was addressed  
to a ghost—and the name of the ghost was "Sirius".


End file.
